


Everyone’s Looking for Home

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Felicity Smoak is the newcomer to Starling City, a picture perfect small town where certain residents need a refresher course on Southern hospitality. Oliver Queen is the token bad boy with a heart of gold—and a brand new next door neighbor. With the help of her best friend, John Diggle, hunky mayor and NFL legend, can Felicity charm her way into acceptance?AKA the Hart of Dixie AU my brain vomited.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame an idle mind and my questionable taste in television for shoving these suckers into a parody of southern small town life based on a CW show with a completely different aesthetic. (But I don't know. I feel like David Ramsey could pull off a bright linen suit and a fedora.)
> 
> Title from Sam Outlaw's song of the same name.

No one had responded to her incessant knocking, so Felicity narrowed her eyes and did the one thing that would have never gained her entrance into someone’s home in Vegas. She tried the knob. To her surprise, the front door to the largest house in Starling City, really a former plantation/mansion, swung open. The foyer—damn, she never thought she’d be standing in one of those—was immaculate and drew her further into the cavernous home. The room to the left was an office filled with recognizable sports memorabilia, but that was all she noticed before the scent of deliciousness caught her nose. She followed the scent into an enormous kitchen, imagining herself like a cartoon character tiptoeing after a visible aroma.

“What is this magical place?”

Felicity marveled at the ridiculous spread of pastries covering every inch of the counters and oversized island. Every sugary craving she’d ever had was available, including a piled-high tray of rugelach. She was so absorbed in taking in the possibilities that she somehow missed the hulking man standing at the range and holding a spatula.

“Morning, neighbor!” Dig chuckled as she jumped in place and whirled to face him. “Still like your eggs scrambled?”

“Dig, when you offered to let me stay in the carriage house, this wasn’t really what I was expecting.” At his encouraging nod, she snagged a rugelach and peeled off a bite. “That was not me complaining by the way. And, yes, scrambled please.”

“Well, I’m just glad to have my best friend in the same town again.” Dig grinned and cracked eggs into the frying pan. “And living next door.”

“Yeah, about that. Is the former NFL player and current town mayor who just happens to be black living in the last plantation house in the county supposed to be... ironic?” Dig pointed the spatula at her as if to say _exactly_. “Wait, are you wearing a _monogrammed_ pajama set? Please tell me Lyla has matching ones. Where is she anyway?”

“Sleeping still. You took her over her three glass limit last night.” Diggle sent her a dirty look because he didn’t appreciate having to take care of his hungover wife. Not that he wouldn’t happily do it, it was just that hungover Lyla required a lot of babysitting.

Felicity grinned at the memory. Five-drink Lyla was  _hilarious_. Her filter was disabled, and all the dirty jokes—and some secrets—came flying out. “Oh is this all hangover food? Or is it a daily occurrence? Because I have to say, I would not be mad if it was the latter.”

“More daily than not,” Dig admitted with a shrug. “I got used to having a spread available at all times. Consider it included in your rent, which means your presence at breakfast every morning is pretty much required. Besides you’re not the only tenant in this place.”

“Tenant? Rent? Dig, you refuse to take any rent money and you’re providing the largest continental breakfast ever seen on _any_ continent.” This time, he waved the spatula at her in a dismissive gesture, and Felicity scoffed at his disinterest. “Who’s the other tenant? Someone in the boathouse?”

Fishing a plate out of the cabinet, Dig handed her the fluffy eggs and went to retrieve a fork. “Yeah, Oliver. He’s a late riser usually, but you’ll see him around the property. Helps out with maintenance and such when he’s not bartending in town.”

“Oliver?” The name came out garbled, and Felicity felt a little like a chipmunk talking around the food stuffed in her mouth. After a self-conscious swallow, she continued, “Does this Oliver happen to drive a red pickup truck?”

  
“Yeah, why?” Dig’s back was turned again, loading more eggs into his frying pan, so he thankfully missed her look of panic. 

“No reason. Thanks for breakfast, Dig. Tell Lyla I’ll see her at lunch. I’ve got to get moving. Quentin’s expecting me at City Hall in an hour.” Felicity didn’t wait for Dig to process the deluge of words and ran out the kitchen side door, realizing that it fortuitously put her closer to the path to her carriage house. “Frak. Oh mother of frak. Maybe I _should_ have made out with him.”

* * *

**The Previous Day**

It had been charming at first, but the taxi driver’s insistence on calling her Miss Felicity was starting to grate. So was his tendency to point out every mailbox and watering hole they drove past. She tried to casually hint that she was in a hurry to reach City Hall, but he said that Mayor Diggle asked him to give her the _grand_ tour. 

So far, the tour was more humdrum than grand. From what she’d seen, the city in Starling City’s name was less reality and more wishful thinking. No wonder Dig hightailed it out of there as a teenager. And many wonders for whyhad he been so eager to move back after retiring from football.

Felicity met Diggle when he was the star tight end for the Las Vegas Raiders. She had been a lowly tech support grunt, crawling around to find the tripped wire during a practice scrimmage, when he literally tripped over her. Instead of losing his temper, Dig helped her up and apologized, defending her when her boss yelled at her for the accident. To show her gratitude, Felicity made sure that the film room was always set to his preferences, much to the annoyance of the other players. Realizing he was married to their kick-ass game day coordinator cemented her good opinion of him, and their friendship grew when Lyla took her under her wing.

By the time Dig had played seven seasons for the Raiders, winning them two Super Bowl rings, and was ready to retire, Felicity had spent three years with the couple as her best friends and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Which was why, after one depressing season without Dig and Lyla, she took up their offer to semi-permanently visit Starling City. John had, for whatever reason, become the mayor of his hometown and was always complaining that the city government needed a massive technological overhaul. In exchange for the menial pay, John and Lyla offered to let her stay on their property, with promises that she would have her own space, and help her sort out what she wanted to do in life after. The contract she’d signed was for nine months, guaranteeing plenty of time for planning, implementation, transition, and troubleshooting, and Felicity promised to give them another three months after to screw her head on straight.

That meant she was stuck for a year in a town less populated than the Tropicana during the off season. Oh joy.

“And this is City Hall.” The driver’s voice cut into her reminiscing, and Felicity looked out the window to an honestly cute building, all deep red brick and white columns, that seemed to come straight out of a film set. It looked more like the Hollywood approximation of a small town city hall than a functioning government building. “The mayor’s expecting you inside, Miss Felicity.”

She tried to pay the driver after he unloaded her bags, but he refused, saying that the mayor had already taken care of it. Waving as he drove off, she felt bad that she hadn’t paid the best attention to his congenial tour, especially when she caught sight of the elevated gazebo across the street. The town square surrounded the small central park, each side highlighting a number of local businesses, and he probably could have provided all sorts of color about the shops and their eccentric owners. She shook her head to clear the presumptuous thought. Despite appearances to the contrary, these people were probably the normal, hard-working kind, and not the charmingly quirky Stars Hollow kind.

Felicity never realized that she was gawking, and being gawked at, because a red pickup came screeching up to the curb in front of her, the brakes protesting loudly when they forced the truck to a sudden stop. A man—tall, biceps bulging under his plain t-shirt, handsome face making her appreciate stubble, ass filling out his jeans perfectly—jumped out and stormed into City Hall. Well, at least now she knew why that stereotype of southern girls going to college for their M.R.S. degrees existed, if he’s what she missed out on in the desert and New England.

Shaking her head at another stereotypical thought, Felicity hauled her suitcases up the three steps and through the beautiful, but heavy, ornate door. The interior of the building was immaculate and impressive, shiny marble and polished oak framing two symmetrical curved staircases leading up to the second floor. The atmosphere was almost oppressively silent, and it took her a moment to spot the receptionist behind the oversized wooden desk.

“Hi. I’m looking for the mayor’s office.”

The receptionist took one look at her and  _mmhmm_ ’edin the way Felicity would have at the girls she was just mentally judging. “You and every pretty young thing in four counties. He’s married, honey. Happily. Whatever you’re selling? _Kindly_ show yourself out.”

With concerted effort, she bit down the sarcastic reply and forced a polite smile. “I don’t think we’re getting off on the right foot. I’m Felicity Smoak, the new IT consultant.”

“Listen here, honey. I don’t care who you say you are. You’re not getting any further without an appointment.” The other woman just about snarled at her, and Felicity was taken aback. Well, of course she didn’t have an appointment. Dig had insisted on the taxi driver giving her a tour that probably could have taken another hour if the man was so inclined to keep talking and said he would make time for her whenever she got in. Putting her even more off-kilter was how young the receptionist appeared. Until she had looked up from filing her nails, Felicity didn’t realize she was combatting with a nineteen-year-old, at the oldest. Seriously, the girl looked like she still belonged in high school, and that was saying something given how often people underestimated Felicity’s age.

“Evelyn, that’s enough!”

And that man’s tone of voice definitely cemented that she was dealing with a teenager.

“Felicity Smoak? I’m Quentin Lance, deputy mayor. Sorry about her attitude.” An older man with a buzzed head and a somehow comforting frenetic energy approached from the staircase.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she shook his offered hand, “I guess Lyla can sleep easy with—Evelyn, was it?—guarding John’s virtue.” The teenager treated her to a sarcastic smile then returned to ignoring them. This time, Felicity stifled a laugh, knowing her bark was worse than her bite. Still, she wondered how well John and Lyla got along with Evelyn since she seemed so protective of them.

“John’s busy with a... walk-in,” Felicity didn’t miss his grimace as he mumbled the description, “but let’s put your bags away and I’ll give you a tour.”

Oh great, another tour. She was starting to really regret shipping her car ahead of her arrival. If she hadn’t, she could have driven straight to the Michaels-Diggle house and been hanging out with Lyla, instead of schlepping all over town with her luggage. Felicity gave herself a brief pep talk while Quentin wheeled her suitcases into a coat closet under the stairs but couldn’t hide the suspicious grimace on her face. 

“You don’t need to worry about anyone stealing them. Evelyn keeps a sharp eye out, if only so she can yell at people. Plus, there’s no crime here in Starling. It’s why I took the offer to be John’s deputy mayor. Life’s a little boring as sheriff.”

Felicity only raised her eyebrows. Far be it for her to contradict him, but she had never been comfortable leaving her belongings out of sight, in an unlocked coat closet, where multiple other people stored their stuff. “Who’s sheriff now then? I’ll need to coordinate with him on the upgrades to the police network.”

“That would be my younger daughter, Sara.” Quentin’s chest puffed out in pride, and Felicity bit the inside of her cheek to contain the  _aww_. She also needed to watch her pronouns. Apparently, this sleepy town was a little more progressive than she gave it credit for, if they accepted a female sheriff.

“Doesn’t she find it boring?” If the older man found the work boring, Felicity couldn’t imagine someone around her age being satisfied with it.

“I would say so. Her girlfriend, Nyssa,” Felicity worked to keep her expression neutral but she was impressed with Quentin’s progressive attitude based on the casual way he volunteered that his daughter has a girlfriend, “is the deputy fire chief over in Hub City. Between the two of them, they cause just as many calls as they respond to. It works for now, but Sara will move on eventually. I’m hoping Laurel can help her find something she’ll like. Laurel’s my oldest. She’s the town lawyer.” 

Felicity’s eyebrows raised when she realized he really meant _the_  town lawyer. As in there was only one. Maybe it was naiveté, but she hadn’t processed just how tiny this town was.

“I figured we’d start down here?” Quentin paused at the hallway under the staircases, and she followed him through as he explained the administrative offices and assembly room housed there. Finally, he led her up the stairs, her heels clicking loudly on each step, to his office, Dig’s, and a few other directors. Spotting an open door, Quentin breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Looks like John’s visitor left. Why don’t you go on in, sweetheart?”

Coming from Vegas, that nickname usually made her cringe at the least, but Quentin infused it with such warmth and caring that she assumed it was usually a term of endearment for his daughters. Impulsively, she gave him a hug that he easily returned then told her to expect a dinner invitation from Laurel and Sara soon. Quentin retreated to his office down the hall, and Felicity excitedly burst into Dig’s office, letting all her trepidations about this backwater town fade away.

After catching up for an hour with some vague attempts to talk about her duties sprinkled in, Lyla texted that she was back from her meeting in Central City and heading over to pick up Felicity. Coincidentally, Dig’s office phone rang a moment later, and Felicity urged him to answer, stating that she was fine to wait outside. Deciding to leave her suitcases in the closet for convenience, besides she really wanted to see Lyla and Evelyn interact, she exited the building to check out the town square. 

To her surprise, the red truck from earlier was still parked at the curb. She assumed it belonged to Dig’s earlier visitor with the biceps and he would have left after talking to the mayor, but she must have been wrong. Unless he was hanging around somewhere in one of the stores. A quick glance inside did nothing to satisfy her curiosity. The vinyl upholstery was cracking in places, and the dash was covered in a layer of dust except for certain radio controls, but the interior was otherwise empty and unremarkable. Belatedly, Felicity realized she was snooping, in front of her brand new town which was undoubtedly watching her snoop from behind their literal and figurative curtains, and backed away from the truck quickly.

Too bad the curb was right behind her.

Felicity braced herself for what was bound to be a memorable first impression on this town, but her butt never hit the ground. Instead, solid arms slipped under her windmilling ones and propelled her back to a standing position. She tripped forward a few steps before catching herself against the side of the truck. Feeling a little like a weeble wobble, she spun around to thank her savior and found Biceps—she meant, the truck’s owner—his arms emphasized even more as they were crossed over his chest. Speaking of cross things, his expression was unamused to say the least. 

When he didn’t speak, she mentally cringed at whatever stream of consciousness her nerves were about to unleash. “Thanks for the save. I was just—”

“Trying to steal my truck?”

“No!” she shot back in horror at the accusation and incredulity that he also had a sexy voice. Some people got all the luck, or genes rather. “I was just curious. I’m new in town.”

“You don’t say. Maybe you should meet the local law enforcement then. Should let the sheriff know there’s a new criminal element in town.”

He paired the dry response with a quirked eyebrow, and that was the last straw. She narrowed her eyes and advanced on him, sharply poking a finger into his immovable chest. “Listen here, buddy. I know it was rude taking a look inside, but it was just idle curiosity. I stopped the second I realized what I was doing so you don’t need to be a sarcastic asshat about it and rake me over the coals for an innocent mistake.”

“Asshat?”

She refused to acknowledge that even his smirk was more attractive than annoying. “You know. Wearing your ass for a hat. As in your head is up it. Please tell me people here understand slang from the early 2000s. I might not survive if they don’t.”

Biceps opened his mouth to respond, but then something up the street behind her caught his attention. Or at least that was what Felicity assumed happened because his eyes widened comically and a large hand wrapped around her elbow, dragging her into the small space between City Hall and the post office. The width between the buildings wasn’t even enough for a garbage can, which was probably what she could thank for the lack of odor, and barely wide enough for the two of them to stand facing each other.

Before she could take a breath to question what the hell he thought he was doing, his free hand clamped over her mouth. He rolled his eyes at her muffled grumblings and the fiery disdain in hers then used those pretty, and surprisingly expressive, baby blues to beg for patience. A moment passed before she heard, and caught the barest blur of, a truck larger and noisier than his rumbling past. Biceps stuck his head out of the space, looked both ways, then dropped his head back to blow out a heavy sigh of relief.

Felicity was left staring at his Adam’s apple, which she kind of wanted to lick but shut away that urge, and no way to move without some very inappropriate points of contact between strangers. “What was that about?”

She could see the grimace even before he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How about we just make out and you forget that ever happened?”

A tempting offer—in fact, it was kind of stupid how tempting it was given how ridiculous the last two minutes of her life had been—but even her common sense wasn’t that lacking.

“Uh, no thanks.” She pushed on his chest for space but found there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go so she tried to inch back toward the sidewalk, but his leg blocked her path. After a long beat during which he used only his eyebrows to proposition her again, and she used hers to reject him again, he pulled his leg back. Grateful that she didn’t have to straddle this unknown but attractive man’s leg to leave the confined space he had randomly hauled her into, Felicity proceeded to beat a hasty retreat.

Until a car pulled up behind the truck and she recognized the nondescript sedan that Lyla had driven back in Vegas.

“Wait!”

She felt his chest brushing against her back before he caught himself—apparently he was also ready to leave this strange situation behind—but if they stepped onto the sidewalk now, they’d be in clear view of Lyla who was still sitting in the driver’s seat. Felicity felt her phone vibrate in her purse, only just then realizing she’d held onto it the entire time, and assumed the woman had texted her to come outside. The last thing she needed was her de facto older sister catching her in a cramped space with a guy, especially on her first day arriving in John’s hometown. Lyla wouldn’t judge her promiscuity—not that there was any promiscuity to judge lately—but she probably wouldn’t be thrilled with the timing or setting. Or maybe she would be, and Felicity would spend the next year dodging Lyla’s attempts to tie her down to some country bumpkin here. Either way, she wasn’t about to be caught in this situation.

“What’s—”

“Just wait!” She cut him off, throwing her hand behind her and smacking his upper arm for good measure. _Hmm_ , she should work on a more descriptive nickname than just Biceps, because she didn’t think they’d arrive at the exchanging first names place anytime soon. _Bumpkin Biceps!_  Because he was a country bumpkin with massive biceps. And it was alliterative and rhymed with Dunkin’ Donuts. MIT!Felicity gave her a mental high five.

But in the meantime, there was Lyla to consider. If she knew Lyla, and she did, the other woman would soon get impatient and go inside to find her. A second later, the car door swung open, and Lyla entered City Hall.

“Okay.” Taking a moment to straighten herself out, Felicity stepped back onto the sidewalk, smiling frigidly at Bumpkin Biceps. Damn, she really hoped that saying about small towns having no secrets, or maybe it was all the secrets, wasn’t true. The last thing she needed was gossip about the new girl and the hottest man in town (she was assuming) making its way to Dig and Lyla. But if Starling City was anything like the locals community in Vegas, she was screwed. “I’d say that was fun, but it wasn’t. See you never.” 

Without waiting for a response, she hustled back into City Hall, and nearly ran into Lyla who was leaning against the receptionist desk and chatting with Evelyn. Lyla greeted her with open arms, and Felicity could only hope that her excitement covered her nerves. The judgmental look Evelyn sent her was inconclusive. While they pulled her suitcases out to Lyla’s car, Felicity made up an excuse about exploring the town square. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her explorations were just limited to two square feet of a sorry excuse for an alley.

“Weird,” Lyla noted once she started the car, “Oliver’s truck was just parked in front of me. I thought he was inside talking to Johnny but I guess not.” She misinterpreted Felicity’s nervous look as one of confusion and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him soon. Everyone knows everyone here.”

Felicity mustered up an “oh great”that was only mildly sarcastic, and Lyla rolled her eyes at the typical response. So Bumpkin Biceps had a real name. Oliver. She could probably use that to gain the upper hand next time they met, which, from what Lyla implied, would be soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. There won’t be a love triangle. I’ve had enough of that nonsense from both of these shows.

The sounds of splashing water caught Felicity’s attention, and despite her best intentions, her feet walked towards the short platform at the edge of the lake. Yesterday, she had avoided the murky green water. It looked gross and potentially full of water snakes and all sorts of other creatures she didn’t want anywhere near her. Plus, growing up in Vegas meant she was a mediocre swimmer at best. In fact, up until this very second, the only thing the lake had going for it was that it didn’t smell—much.

Then a shirtless Oliver, the source of the splashing, emerged from its depths. He flung his torso upright, shook the water out of his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair like he was the bombshell babe in a summer blockbuster. Felicity would have found the role reversal ironic, especially when it wasn’t really since she was capably filling the role of awkward nerd ogling the perfect human specimen, but she was too busy trying to re-hinge her jaw. Thankfully, she had left the plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen counter, otherwise it would have spilled all over the path after falling from her slack fingers.

In slow motion—because water created more friction than air, her stuttering brain provided—he strode towards the short dock. Gripping the posts, Oliver leveraged himself out of the water, his torso contracting and making every ab, all eight of them that she could easily count, pop. The sunlight and water conspired to highlight his glistening muscles as he pushed from a crouched position to standing so quickly that she was lightly misted with water drops.

“Oh you have to be kidding me!” Felicity finally found her voice and internally cringed at the decibel she achieved. “This is completely unfair. It’s obscene. It’s practically pornographic.” Her hands fluttered in the direction of his  _everything_ , and she braced herself for the inevitable ego trip.

“Not yet, but give me a second.” Completely straight-faced, he reached for the waistband of his shorts. Oliver pulled the shorts down an inch, maybe two, giving her a better view of his well-defined V cut, before Felicity regained her senses.

“Stop!” She flung a hand out then immediately dropped it back to her side because honestly she was going to take zero responsibility if her fully autonomous hand which her mind had no control over tried to grope his stomach. Quickly, Felicity averted her eyes to the blue skies, hoping she wouldn’t hear the sound of wet clothing hitting the dock. Okay, maybe she was hoping a little. “Are you crazy? You don’t even know my name.”

“Felicity Smoak. Dig and Lyla’s best friend from Vegas. Officially moved to Starling City yesterday. You work as an IT consultant for the city. You drive a red Mini Cooper that is going to wash away during the spring rains.” Out of shock Felicity lowered her head to meet his smirk. So much for having the upper hand because she knew his first name. Then he opened his mouth again. She prayed he wouldn’t say it. “And one more thing: Morning, neighbor.”

How could the same two words John greeted her with not fifteen minutes ago take on an entirely different meaning when muttered by this man? Because she suddenly wanted to have the very good morning his tone suggested he would be happy to provide.

“I know more about you than most women I’ve slept with.”

Oh, yeah, no. That right there killed it real quick. 

His blatant reference to his sexual history jolted her brain back to normal functionality, and she tried to back off the dock. “Uh, not really an accomplishment. You should probably work on that. If only for health and safety reasons. I’ve got to get to work. At City Hall. Which you apparently know about.” 

The longer he silently smirked at her, the more extraneous detail she added to her ramble. Her foot caught in a depression in the path, and her right knee buckled in. Felicity threw her hands out to maintain distance when he lurched forward as if to catch her and she turned slightly so she could walk not backwards—normal, forward. “Meant to do that. Bye. Have a good day.”

Muttering under her breath the entire way to her front door, Felicity secured the locks then dropped her forehead to the wooden door frame. And twice again for good measure.

“He is _so_ going to be a problem.”

* * *

Felicity parked her car next to the carriage house and dropped her forehead this time to the steering wheel. Well, that was a disaster of a first day.

Unlike the friendly welcome from Dig, obviously, and Quentin, the city council had been almost outright in their hostility. Where was all that Southern hospitality Lyla had been telling her about? Did it only apply if you were married to the richest, most successful football player to have come from the state? Yeah, that probably _did_ have something to do with why the Diggle-Michaels were so adored.

A second after she stepped foot in the conference room, a councilman tried to send her to fetch coffee, which had Evelyn, a step behind her, snickering. Maybe she should remind Dig she hadn’t signed up to be the big sister to a disgruntled teenager. With a tight smile, she had patiently explained who she was and why she was there, opening the door to a brand new line of questioning. To even Dig’s surprise, they spent the first twenty minutes of the meeting going over every inch of her background and qualifications, from volunteer work to college internships. It was degrading and insulting and only Dig’s pleading expression kept her in the room.

They ended the meeting with a barely veiled threat to fire her the moment anything went wrong with her plan. Never mind that she had been in town for less than a day and hadn’t even had a chance to assess the current state of the networks, much less screw them up. Felicity was tempted to see if calling them out on their misogynistic bullshit was enough reason to get fired, but Quentin stepped in to remind them that she was under contract, a contract they had approved in a public meeting.

From there, it went slightly uphill, but only because it couldn’t have gotten worse. The staff members she met with were friendlier, which wasn’t a high bar to clear, but confused as to what she was doing there. Once they realized her job was to make them learn new things—techniques, processes, _technology_ —the cold shoulders emerged. If she had a quarter for every time someone told her, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, sweetie,” well, she wouldn’t have much, but she could have at least bought ice cream from the minimart.

The only bright spot of the day had been her afternoon appointment at the library. The staff was courteous and actually excited to have the systems updated. The catalog was tragically limited and outdated, even for a town of their size, and they had been petitioning the mayor to allocate more funds for internet resources. Thea and Curtis knew the library inside and out, with Thea’s in depth knowledge of every patron to have ever step foot on the premises and Curtis’ on the Dewey decimal system. She was genuinely eager to work with them and figure out what improvements would best help the community.

After long minutes of wallowing, she dragged herself inside and tried to muster up the energy for a shower. Dig and Lyla were expecting—had demanded she come over—for dinner, but the struggle of the day had sapped her energy. A knock sounded on the door, and she was yelling before she even yanked it fully open.

“Dig, I said I’d be over after a shower. Stop checking up on me!”

A bevy of women decked out in sundresses and pearls stood on her porch, the woman in the front holding a pie dish. Most wore a subdued expression of shock and disapproval. The main exception was the pie lady, a pretty brunette looking every inch a Southern belle, who smiled so widely Felicity worried for her cheek muscles.

Self-consciously, Felicity smoothed a hand over her hopefully still sleek ponytail. At least she hadn’t had a chance to change out of her work clothes, because she could only imagine what they would think of her then. “You’re not Dig,” she stated obviously with a tired cringe. Yay! More judgment over bad first impressions.

“We are the Starling City Starlets,” the pie lady chirped, and Felicity bit back the sarcastic _good for you_ dying to escape. “I’m Helena Bertinelli, and we wanted to welcome you to Starling City, Miss Felicity Smoak. Aren't you just as cute as a button? This is our famous strawberry pie. The recipe is a Starlet secret, handed down for generations. We hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh. Thanks!” Felicity forced the enthusiasm only a little bit as she accepted the pie. It _was_ a nice gesture, even if the royal we usage was a little off-putting, and she could appreciate it especially after complaining about the lack of hospitality all day. “This is really thoughtful. And Felicity, please.” The women smiled in unison, and she ignored how unsettling that felt.

“Now onto more important matters,” Helena continued, her smile never faltering, “If you don’t mind us asking, you got a boyfriend? A husband? A _girlfriend_? The sheriff is... of that lifestyle, so we try to be inclusive these days. If you don't, then as I’m sure you know by now, Oliver _Queen_ is your neighbor. And there is quite the line of women who have tried, and still would like, to tame him. How would you rate your level of interest?”

Felicity mentally commended the synchronized movement as they all leaned in to hear her answer. If they didn’t have a synchronized swimming routine, it was a wasted opportunity. She played back the run on list of questions before settling on one answer that would hopefully get them off her back. “I’m just here for a job.”

Helena scoffed in a way that left her feeling both judged and dismissed. Felicity was pretty sure the other woman added, “Sure you are, honey,” under her breath, but they were all distracted by a piercing whistle. Thankful for her heels putting her at a similar height, she peered over their shoulders as they whirled around to face the offender.

“Helena, scram! Leave the poor woman alone and get out of here. Take your Starlets with you.”

Any other person would have reacted poorly to being treated like vermin, but Helena only sighed in resignation. “It was nice to meet you, Felicity. We do hope you spend your time in Starling City wisely.”

Despite the cheerful tone and bright smile, Felicity figured she was supposed to take that as a warning. She didn’t know if the warning meant stay away from Oliver or this new person, but she’d bet on both. Southern women were a lot more nuanced than she expected.

In fact, that was demonstrated by the way Helena and the newcomer greeted each other. Each gave a fake smile and snide yet polite comment.

“Sara, happy to see you’re enjoying your place in life.”

“Helena, happy to see you haven’t lost your ambitions.”

“Have a nice day!” they chorused in unison.

As the Starlets departed in their sensible and immaculate cars, Felicity stepped off the porch toward the new woman, who greeted her with an actual sincere smile. Also in contrast to the well-coifed group, she wore a pair of scuffed boots, dark jeans, and a white t-shirt. “Felicity, hi. I’m Sara Lance.”

“Oh! You’re Quentin’s daughter, the sheriff.” Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. She could at least hope that the daughters were as genuine as the father. “Are you here on official business?”

“Oh yeah, _real_ official.” Sara lifted the hem of her shirt to display a gold badge hooked on her front belt loop. To Felicity, it looked like the sheriff badge from a child’s Halloween costume, and based on Sara’s mischievous smirk, that was probably true. “My dad said you had a rough day. Might need a friendly ear. He didn’t think he was the right person for it, and Laurel’s got a trial tomorrow. So you got me.”

Felicity was touched by the offer but a little wary. “Thanks, but you don’t need to hang out with me because your dad asked you to. I’m actually headed to John and Lyla’s for dinner.”

Rolling her eyes, Sara chuckled and hooked her arm through Felicity’s to pull her towards the path to the main house. “In case you didn’t notice, the pool of candidates for sane females in this town isn’t exactly deep. You and me? We may be all we have. And Dig’s the one who sent me to get you. Now, have you met five-drink Lyla?”

The feeling of instant camaraderie surprised Felicity, but she was admittedly more comfortable with Sara than the sneak attack that had just happened on the porch. “Dig will kill me if I bring out five-drink Lyla twice in one week.” Sara shrugged in concession but sent her an impressed look. “Maybe you could give me background on Helena and the… Starlets?”

“Oh that nightmare. If you really want me to.” She nodded, and Sara gave a resigned sigh. “The Starlets have been a Starling City tradition for god knows how long. My grandma was one. My mom was one. Laurel’s technically one but she doesn’t have free time these days and she's not going to waste any with them. They started as a historical society or something. Now, they just exist to piss me off. By that, I mean be a bunch of really judgy women, whose only ambition in life is to get married. And Helena’s their esteemed leader.”

Felicity must have made a face because Sara sighed again before carrying on. “Don’t get me wrong. If marriage is her only ambition in life, then all the more power to her. I get hostile because she tries to conscript every person under the age of forty into her warped marriage fantasy football league. Ever since her daddy ran her fiancé out of town, she’s been obsessed with marrying for status, which really means angling for Ollie's last name, and appointed herself gatekeeper of the town class divisions. It’s real _respectable_ work.”

That rose her eyebrows. How did anyone in this town get anything done when there were all these layers and figurative mines underlying every social interaction? “What was that gibe at your “place in life” about?”

“Caught that, did you? That was a Southern woman’s weapon of choice: psychological warfare. Dad said you didn’t react when he mentioned my girlfriend, so congrats on not being a shitty person.” Felicity nodded in acknowledgment, and they shared a commiserating smile. “Most people are too scared of me to make an issue of it. But yeah. I’ve never been a Starlet, I work for a living, and I am happily dating a woman. In other words, I am a _flaming_ disappointment. To my family. To the very idea of womanhood. They ought to string me up the nearest tree.”

Finally unable to contain herself, Felicity burst out laughing at Sara’s suddenly exaggerated Southern accent. “Yeah, we’re going to get along great.”

* * *

“Hey!” Dig interrupted the laughing women. After a hearty dinner, they had settled into the living room and cracked open a(nother) bottle of wine, with Lyla wisely abstaining. “I just had a great idea. We should throw you a welcome party.”

“Oh no,” Felicity muttered as Sara shouted her agreement. “Come on. No one wants that. Most importantly, _I_ don’t want that.”

“Please, Felicity,” Dig cajoled with a wide smile, “This is a small town. You got to be friendly. How’s everyone going to know how great you are if you’re just working all the time?”

“First, let’s not touch the issue of _friendliness_ today.” Felicity sent him a pointed look, and he shrugged guiltily. “Second, I’ll be working with half the town. You know, once we get them to accept that they have to work with me.”

Sara interrupted, her arms flailing. “No, no, no. We cannot let those misogynistic assholes pretending to be city council members”—she ignored Dig’s offended _hey_ –“and the _Starlets_ be your first impression of Starling. We are throwing you a party.”

“Okay, technically, Mr. Morton, the taxi driver, was my first impression. Then it was Evelyn. Then it was your dad.”

“Okay, aside from Dad, that is still not our best foot forward. The point stands. This town has its problems and its crazies, but it’s still a community of good people, and you should get to know them.” Sara turned to the only quiet person in the room. “Lyla, come on. We know how much you _love_ parties.”

Lyla shot her a wry look and set her wine glass down to seriously examine Felicity. “I know it’s outside your comfort zone. Hell, it’s outside my comfort zone.”

Sara snorted at the understatement. When Dig had moved back, the womenfolk of the town—mainly the Starlets—lost their collective shit. It didn’t matter that the man was married, they were going to do their level best to crack that foundation while putting on a sweet smile for Lyla. Despite her friendly façade, Lyla knew exactly the game that was being played and forced herself to patiently wait it out, while complaining privately to Dig and Sara. Nearly a year later, the female population had just about conceded the point. To their complete astonishment, John Diggle had fallen in love with—and stubbornly refused to fall out of love with—a woman who preferred pantsuits over dresses, even though she could rock an evening gown just as well, and who ran an NFL stadium like it was a black ops mission. Sara had gained their friendship by simply finding Lyla as impressive as Dig did.

“But Johnny and Sara are right. You’re the outsider here. You’ve got to make an effort, or people won’t make an effort with you.” With an encouraging look, Lyla glanced around the large family room. “Look, we can host it here. Somewhere you’re already comfortable. And people respect Johnny so they’re not going to do anything out of line here.”

The simple logic swayed Felicity, and she sighed, knowing John wasn’t going to let it go. The man was determined to make her like this town. And she got why, she really did. He grew up here and loved it and wanted the Vegas side of his life and the hometown side of his life to get along. Lyla got his hopes up by agreeing to move and eventually carving out a life for herself there.

“Okay, fine.”

Her final concession was accompanied by a pout, but Dig and Sara fist bumped anyway. Then her newest friend turned to her with a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t worry. Dad and I will make sure everyone’s on their best behavior.”

“So I need the mayor, the mayor’s wife, the deputy mayor and the sheriff to run interference at my welcome party. I feel so welcome,” Felicity deadpanned, and the others winced.

“The town lawyer and her fiancé, too. I’ll talk to Laurel and Tommy,” Sara added without any consideration of how that didn’t make anything better. “Would you talk to Ollie?” she threw out Dig’s way.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the humidity, but something finally clicked in Felicity’s brain. “Wait, Ollie is Oliver?”

Dig pulled a face and scoffed, “Well, yeah. How many people named Oliver or Ollie do you think are running around this town?”

“I don’t know! I met a man named Critter today, and I’m still not sure if that’s his legal name or not,” she pointed out with an exasperated sigh.

“Wait till she meets his brothers, Skipper and Tripper,” Lyla muttered under her breath.

“Or Clover and Garland,” Sara chimed in.

Ignoring them and those clearly made up names for a moment, Felicity continued questioning Diggle. “Oliver is your high school best friend Ollie? The one you’ve told me countless stories about? That’s the degenerate living in the boathouse?”

“I take it you met,” Dig mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. Without supervision, he could only imagine the impression Oliver made on Felicity. That was why he had warned his friend not to meet her unless he was there, which was probably why Oliver had sought her out. Well, that and she was a single woman who didn't have the benefit of knowing his reputation in advance. “Did I mention y’all share a generator, too?”

“Damn it, Dig!”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m coming!” Oliver hollered over the pounding on his door. But no matter how quickly he moved he was never going to reach the door before it came off the hinges. He skidded to a stop as the door flew open and he was faced with a wrathful John Diggle. “Oh it’s just you.”

Sauntering back into the house, he waved Dig forward over his shoulder. “Come on in. You want a beer?”

Diggle stomped his way down the hall, ignoring how the beer bottles on the coffee table rattled unsteadily. Following Oliver into the kitchen, he slapped his palm against the door frame. “Ollie, do I look like I’m here to watch the game and drink beer?”

“No, you look stressed as all hell which is why I offered.” Oliver held out a bottle that got impatiently swatted away. “And I thought you said you wouldn’t call me Ollie anymore,” he mumbled disagreeably now that his offer had been rejected.

“Well, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck,” Dig responded, leaving the rest of the saying unfinished. “I asked you to do one thing. One thing. And you couldn’t do it. Felicity is important to me, Oliver. She is doing me a favor being here. And I know living in this town is going to be rough on her, with people like Helena and Damien Darhk acting like women don’t belong in the workplace. I was counting on you to be nice to her. Not flaunt yourself all over the place to try to sleep with her. If Helena finds out about that, she is going to paint Felicity as public enemy number one.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to be responsible for everything crazy Helena does.” Oliver swung around, an easy smirk on his lips. “And I agreed before I saw her. Have you seen the woman? You can’t just dangle a carrot in front of me like that and expect me not to—”

“Yes! Yes, I can expect you not to.” Dig sagged against the counter and looked away with a clenched jaw. “Man, you’re my oldest friend, one of my best. You were supposed to help me. Not make things harder. I thought I could count on you. And Felicity’s not a carrot.”

“I’m not going to apologize if that’s what you’re looking for,” he countered stubbornly as they engaged in a staring contest. She was an attractive woman, who probably didn’t have the marital expectations of all the other single women in town, and he took his shot. So she said she wasn’t interested. It wouldn’t be a big deal if Diggle wasn’t so overprotective of a grown woman.

“Good,” Diggle returned heatedly, and Oliver squinted in confusion. “I’m not the one who deserves an apology.”

He watched silently as Dig pushed off the counter and stalked out the door. Damn it. He kicked the refrigerator door and chucked his beer in the trash. Now he felt like shit.

 

* * *

 

“Lyla, you home?” Oliver called out into the house. No one had answered when he knocked or rang the doorbell. He was starting to think that thing didn’t actually work. It wasn’t much of a long shot though, since Lyla usually worked from home unless she had meetings in Central City. “Lyla!”

“In the kitchen!”

Oliver ambled towards the back of the house. He hoped there were still pastries left from the morning. Walking in, he found Lyla stationed at the island, working and snacking on the remains of a cookie.

Motioning him forward, she tossed back the last bite of cookie and indicated that she needed a minute. This was why he liked Lyla. The woman was hard-working and just as down to earth and lacking in pretence as Diggle. Plus, she had never looked at him like he was a disappointment. Unlike Diggle. If he had to listen to one more skeptical uh huh, well he might stop calling the man to bail him out of jail.

“Johnny stop by this morning?”

He didn’t realize that he’d just been staring at the counter until she spoke. Oh great. So she knew. But instead of the disappointed look he was expecting, she gave him a gentle smile. “Yeah. Guess I screwed up. Again.”

Heaving a sigh, she shut her laptop and pushed the plate of cookies in front of the empty seat next to her. Oliver took the invitation and slid onto the stool. “You know, I never knew the old you—Ollie, I guess. Not really. Johnny told me stories about home, of course, but his family always came to us for games or during the off season, and we never really spent time down here. But you already know that.”

“I already yelled at you for stealing my best friend at the rehearsal dinner, Ly. You apologized, too.” Oliver grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Stop deflecting.” He muttered an oh god when she shot him a serious look. “You know where this is going. You and Johnny talk all the time about how you don’t like the way people look at you or the reputation you have now. How it’s affecting Thea. You say you want to change. Be a man your sister can be proud to call her brother. But people here? They don’t like change and they’ve known you your entire life. They’re comfortable with Ollie.”

“Felicity and I are the only people in a whole year who are new to this town. Johnny’s not just upset because you made Felicity uncomfortable and you might have made her life unbearable if the Starlets catch wind of it and Sara certainly won’t let her live it down—”

“Okay! I get it. Dick move,” Oliver cut her off with an annoyed sigh.

Lyla raised an eyebrow. So much for never looking at him like a disappointment. “Anyway. Johnny’s also upset because you had a chance to show a woman this incredible side of you—the loyal friend, the amazing brother—without your reputation getting in the way and instead you just fell back on old habits. He just wants the two of you to be friends. And you had to go and... encroach. Like the skeeze you say you aren’t.”

“So you’re saying I should apologize.”

“Not unless you mean it. Felicity grew up in the casinos. She can call a bluff from a mile away.” Lyla scoffed slightly, “And let’s be honest. She’s been calling your bullshit since she got here.”

“Well, no, can’t apologize then,” he admitted then leaned away when she slapped his shoulder, “What? She’s hot, Lyla. Of course, I’m going to take a run. It’s like leading a horse to water and telling him not to drink.”

“That’s not the saying!” Lyla laughed, whacking his arm gently. “Stop being dumb on purpose.”

“Hey I’ll stop being dumb when everyone stops being surprised I hit on her.” Tilting his head, he cocked his own eyebrow at her. “What’s that about anyway? All the men in Vegas blind?”

Lyla was silent for a minute as she thought of how to best answer his question. Johnny had thought Oliver would stay away from Felicity like that just because he asked, but she should have known better. Impulse control had never been Oliver’s strength, and once he saw Felicity, of course he was going to take Johnny’s warning as a challenge. Didn’t make it any less dick-ish though. “Felicity’s never made a big deal out of her looks. I guess we got used to it at some point. She’s always been focused on her career, and I can respect that enough to not throw random men at her. Besides I didn’t think she was your type.”

Oliver just shrugged. So she wasn’t the leggy brunettes he usually chased after, and he had initially approached her to needle Diggle, but she was the first woman who hadn’t at least flirted back in a long time. The way she tore into him after he (jokingly) accused her of trying to steal his truck had been fun, much more appealing than the simpering Starlets. Like Lyla said, maybe he was changing. “Well, that was the old Ollie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an apology to come up with.”

“Hey Oliver.” She called him back when he reached the kitchen door to give him a faint smile. “I meant what I said about her career. Johnny and I asked her down here so she could get some perspective, so she would realize the types of opportunities that are available to her. She’s too smart and too ambitious to stay in Starling City. Now she’s a very impressive woman, but I don’t want you pinning all your hopes and dreams of becoming a better man on her.”

Oliver took that in for a moment—did Lyla really think he was crazy enough to be falling for this woman after “meeting” her twice?—then smirked. “So what you’re saying is, she’s temporary? Perfect.”

“Oh my god. Leave.”

Ducking to avoid the cookie tossed at his head, he let the door close behind him. True to form, Lyla hadn’t minced any words even if she tried to soften the blow. She thought he could be a better person, but never good enough for someone like Felicity. Still. Dig could hold a grudge and definitely would if he didn’t come up with an apology that was at least half sincere.

 

* * *

 

Sitting on the bench in front of City Hall, Oliver grinned at the crew of older women who normally gossiped in plain sight on the bench in front of the bakery across the town square. He was looking forward to their age where he just gave zero shits about what this town thought of him. The last thing he wanted was an audience when he approached Felicity, but hopefully then it would make its way back to Diggle faster.

He heard the telltale creak of the front door being pushed open and casually glanced over his shoulder. She looked the same as yesterday: impressively high heels, work dress skirting the line of too short, which probably gave those white hairs on city council a heart attack, neat ponytail, glasses, and bright lipstick. With just a few adjustments, he could see her fitting in with the Starlets, except that attitude of hers would never fly.

Jumping to his feet, he stepped into her path just in the nick of time. “Morning, neighbor.”

Felicity looked startled before she collected herself and glared at him. “Please stop saying that.”

“O... kay,” Oliver pulled a face, wondering what was wrong with the greeting. He wasn’t even trying to be flirtatious that time. “Um, I don’t think we were properly introduced yesterday. I’m Oliver Queen.” In violation of his usual lack of manners, he stuck a hand out, and she gingerly shook it. It may have taken him an extra second to let go of her hand.

“I know who you are actually. Ollie Queen.” Involuntarily, he winced at the old nickname. “You’re John’s high school best friend. You stole the principal’s car and drove it into the gazebo. You somehow dyed the entire football team of Hub City red the morning before the homecoming game last year. Oh, and you overloaded our fuse box last night and came over buck naked to “fix it” then asked me and Sara if we were interested in a threesome.”

This time, the wince was sincere. How was he supposed to know that Sara Lance had drank too much at dinner and stayed over in Felicity’s carriage house rather than drive home? “Right. Sorry about that.”

“Just that?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow.

“And for accusing you of trying to steal my truck and for the lake.” His lips quirked at the memory of the last one. It was what had convinced him to try his luck later that night. She had been too flustered to be as uninterested as she claimed. “It was all in good fun.”

“Fun?” Felicity repeated incredulously, and he could sense that he was losing her. “Look, I’m just here to do a job and spend time with my best friends. I can’t begin to understand the inner workings of this crazy town and frankly I don’t ever want to be invested enough to understand. But from what I can tell, your idea of fun is going to make my life here more miserable than it’s on track to be. So please. Please. Leave me out of it from now on. Have a nice day.”

She shouldered past him on the narrow path and left him standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Great. He could only imagine what Mabel, Louise, and Dorothy were saying on the other side of the square.

 

* * *

 

This time, Diggle didn’t burst into his house but knocked patiently on the door. Oliver rolled his eyes then pulled it open further, following the other man into his living room. He braced himself for another lecture.

“I know it seems weird. That one of my best friends is this perky blonde IT girl.” Oliver raised his eyebrows at the unusual greeting, but Dig ignored it. “But Felicity’s one of the most loyal people I know. You know no one got a recording of our practices those entire three years she was Senior IT Engineer? Lyla said she even remotely disabled a drone one time. Refused to learn a lick of football, but she was loyal to the team, and most importantly, the people.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Oliver impatiently sighed. It wasn’t how Dig’s lectures normally started, but now he could tell where it was going. “She’s just the best, and I ruined everything.”

“No, you don’t get it man,” Diggle shook his head with a heavy frown. “You know the other person in my life—who I’m not married to—that I can count on in the same way? I mean, who snuck into Hub City’s locker room with me to steal all their uniforms after they put itching powder in ours? It’s not exactly the same because that was stupid and immature of us, but my point is, you guys are cut from the same cloth. And I hate that you’re not getting along because you didn’t give her a chance to see that side of you. Now, I know you tried to apologize. But did you really think that ambushing her in the middle of the day in front of City Hall was going to go well?”

Listlessly, he shrugged. “Look, man, I tried to apologize, and she basically told me never to speak to her again. I’m not going to keep bothering her about it, alright? I’m sorry we’re not going to be a big, happy family like you wanted, but it’s the best I can do.”

After a long moment, Diggle shook his head regretfully. “Yeah, okay. I appreciate you trying. Night, man.”

“I’m not a kid. You don’t have to keep up that positive reinforcement crap,” Oliver called out. It may have been over a decade since Dig was the football captain to his freshman self, but apparently the man was never going to stop trying to mentor him through life.

 

* * *

 

Moments after Dig left, another knock sounded on his door. If this was Helena with another offer like the two previous nights, he was going to lose his shit. He flung the door open, ready to kick her to the curb, but instead found Felicity. Well, that wasn’t much better. He had to look down a little further since her heels usually gave her all that height but didn’t let that somehow endearing observation detract from his irritation.

“Oh. What do you want?”

She gamely smiled in the face of his rudeness. “I saw Dig leaving. I figured he came over to give you another lecture.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be any of your business now, would it? Since I’m leaving you alone from now,” Oliver retorted, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. He didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on him again either.

She shook her head to snap herself out of it. “Hey, I’m trying to apologize this time. So would you shut up and let me do it? Apologize, I mean. Not any other kind of it.” Oliver bit his lip to stifle the grin and inclined his head to indicate that she should go on. “I didn’t give your apology a fair chance this morning. I was already in a bad mood because of—well, it’s not important. In any case, you were making a gesture, and I was rude. Apology accepted. And I’m sorry for not saying so earlier. I’ll tell John to lay off you.”

He let her fidget for a moment longer but then said, “Okay. You can stop feeling guilty about Dig yelling at me now.”

“That is not why I”—she cut herself off with a deep breath—”You know what? That’s great then. Good night.”

“Hey!” He had waited for her to descend the porch before, “Nice jammies.”

“You’re such a jerk!” she called over her shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s pretend I have a shred of dignity and didn’t rewatch Season 4 for the umpteenth time out of boredom/Netflix took away Leverage.

Felicity dashed out of the way of a man wheeling in one of those tall racks of catering trays. She tried to peek in the slats to see they held, but he was moving too quickly and with zero regard for her curiosity. Was she finally witnessing the delivery of the breakfast pastry? It’d been over two weeks, and no matter how early she showed up, the kitchen was always already fully loaded. She was beginning to think elves were responsible.

Once she entered the kitchen, she nearly ran into four more racks, neatly lined up next to the door. On the other side of the island, Lyla was calling orders into a headset while writing on a clipboard, and Felicity smiled at the familiar, and greatly missed, site. She gave a tentative wave, and Lyla immediately pulled off the headset before offering a smile.

“Hey, what's all this for?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot again. It’s your welcome party.”

Right. That’s tonight. Felicity tried not to let her face fall, but Lyla was quicker than that. In a blink, she set down the clipboard and rounded the island to wrap a comforting arm around Felicity’s shoulders.

“Hey. It’s going to be great. Everyone’s going to love you just as much as we do. Okay?” Lyla gestured to a small corner of the counter where the breakfast pastries had been shoved aside. “Get some breakfast and get to work. Let me worry about tonight.”

With a faint smile, Felicity did as she was told. She left the kitchen with a croissant between her teeth and mentally prepared herself for another day of battle at City Hall. At least last night had been fun. She finally met Laurel who came over with Sara to help her pick an appropriate outfit for the party since she had no idea what Southern dressy casual entailed. The older Lance sister was less playful and warm than Sara but clearly happy to spend time with another intelligent, progressive-minded woman in the small town.

Felicity could only hope that tonight would go as well. She had the sinking feeling she’d be proven wrong.

 

* * *

 

The party was exquisite, a perfect balance of easy sophistication and the comforts of small town life. The guests were all pleased with the food and drinks and general ambience and mingling contently throughout the first floor of the house. Lyla should be proud.

Felicity, on the other hand, was nervous as all hell. She lingered at the edges of the room, wishing desperately for her tablet or something else to hide behind. When she attended functions like these for the team, it was always as tech support. Even if she got all dressed up—fancy dress, hair, makeup, and the works—she could always escape to the security room when she needed a break from the “festivities”. This party was far more casual but light-years more unnerving because unlike the others, she was a guest. In fact, she was the guest of honor.

So far she had met the owner of the grocery store/mini-mart, a gruff, unsmiling man who also ran the training center next to the store. No wonder crime was so low when the only place that stocked liquor was owned by a hulk of a man who probably hid no fewer than three knives on his person at all times. Joining them in the conversation was the owner of the local bar/restaurant/concert venue/backup town meeting hall, Verdant, a sweet woman named Raisa. Felicity got the feeling Raisa just wanted to mother and feed everyone who crossed her path and she was totally on board with that. After those two interesting, but wildly different, interactions, she found herself a nice corner to hide in, unwilling to test the waters of the cliques spread around the house.

Of the people who’d offered to run interference for her, Diggle was busy having a pissing contest with the mayor of Hub City, who he swore was crashing, Lyla was handling a catering disaster in the kitchen, Sara quietly snuck off after briefly introducing Nyssa, and Quentin and Laurel were delayed by her car getting a flat. Which left her with Oliver. Who she was pretty sure had never actually agreed to be nice to her at this party. And who she hadn’t even seen since the night he only sort of accepted her apology for not accepting his apology so the point was kind of moot.

“There you are!”

Felicity winced, praying that it wouldn't be Helena or her ilk when she turned around. To her relief, it was actually Thea the improbable librarian, wearing a dress that was far more stylish and sophisticated than she would have expected. Accepting her hug, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“That bad, huh?” Thea questioned with a grin. She didn’t wait for Felicity’s response. “This town is so boring. I can’t imagine why you chose to move here from Vegas. At least Dig’s from here and can claim homesickness or something.”

“It’s not that,” Felicity was quick to deny in case anyone overheard and mistook Thea’s opinion for her own and held it against her. “I’m just not good with strangers.”

“And these people are the strangest,” Thea added under her breath, just loud enough for Felicity to hear and have to stifle a laugh. “Speaking of strange, Curtis says to say sorry for not being here. His husband is sick, so he’s playing nurse. Hopefully for the rest of us, Dr. Holt survives that experience because Curtis is no Florence Nightingale.”

“Oh.” Felicity couldn’t hide her disappointment. She’d found a kindred spirit in the decidedly quirky librarian and was hoping to have him as another defense against the rest of society. “Then I hope Dr. Holt feels better soon.”

Thea sent her a commiserating smile before linking their arms. “Come with me to get a drink, and I’ll give you a rundown.”

As they walked, Thea surreptitiously pointed to an odd couple in the corner. “Linebacker man over there? Slade Wilson. He owns the Star Kart.” Felicity added a, “Right I met him,” under her breath. “He’s also in love with Shado, the pharmacist across the street. She moved back to town about two years to take over the pharmacy after her mother died.”

Without pausing for Felicity to express her sympathy, Thea grinned conspiratorially. “The best part is that—”

Suddenly, the younger woman cut herself off, pasting a look of studied nonchalance on her face. “Ollie. I was wondering where you were.”

The comment was directed over her shoulder, and Felicity fought to contain her grimace, not wanting Thea to see. “Felicity, you must have met Ollie by now,” Thea turned her attention back and before Felicity could respond, she continued, “He’s also my older brother.”

Oliver presented himself at her shoulder, subtly angling the two women to create a space for himself in the conversation. She tried not to roll her eyes at the very casual outfit he wore despite Lyla’s repeated reminders to dress up, which had Dig complaining he was a grown man who should know how to dress himself. With a serious look, he offered her a glass of red wine.

“Truce?”

They both ignored Thea’s exasperated, “What did you do now?” as Felicity warily stared at the glass. He let his expression ease into a smile that seemed more sincere than the pantry-dropping, charm school smirk he’d tried on her the first day, and almost involuntarily she softened. Felicity didn’t want to come across as easily pacified, but it was really good wine and she did need all the friendly faces she could find.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?”

It was such a ridiculous question that Oliver chuckled as she accepted it. She even graced him with a small smile, glad that he could take her teasing in stride instead of lashing out like they’d both been doing. Then Thea clicked her tongue warningly when Felicity went to take a sip.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He allegedly poisoned Sergeant Yao’s dog when he was in high school.”

Felicity’s eyes widened in horror while Oliver rushed to jump in. “Really, Thea?” He directed his explanation to Felicity, clearly worried she would think he was some animal-abusing psycho. “Gizmo got into their garbage and ate some chocolate. Sergeant Yao was just pissed at me because I—anyway, it was all a misunderstanding. I have never poisoned any animal or human. And I would never.”

When she couldn’t wipe the skepticism from her face, he rolled his eyes and swiped the wine glass from her hand. After a healthy swallow, he deposited it back in her still outstretched hand. “See? It’s safe.”

“Yeah, but now it’s contaminated,” Thea retorted with an exaggerated expression of disgust. “Come on, let’s get you a new one,” she tugged on Felicity’s elbow and shot a warning look over her shoulder, “Don’t follow us.”

Felicity heard Oliver call over the crowd, “Remember you’re not legal!” The reminder was probably more for her benefit than anything because Thea only rolled her eyes. In a huffy whisper, she added, “He says that like teenage Ollie never gotten drunk at a party at the mayor’s house.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh hey Ollie. Nice pants,” Sara smirked in that annoying way she had, and Oliver quickly glanced over to Nyssa who was, thankfully, assessing a babbling Felicity with what looked like amusement on her face. “I thought you didn’t own any these days. What with you coming over to Felicity’s buck naked and all.”

“Say it a little louder,” he grumbled, keeping a close watch out for any Starlets. The last people he, or Felicity, needed knowing about that incident were the town’s biggest gossips.

"And offering up a threesome. You really know how to make a girl feel _welcome_.”

Biting his lip, he squinted skeptically at one of his oldest friends. “Pipe down. I already apologized. Did you say something to Nyssa? Because she keeps—”

“Doing the intense eye thing?” Sara offered, looking back over her shoulder to wink at her girlfriend.

Oliver scoffed but rolled his eyes fondly. “They're called crazy eyes, Sara.”

“Really? They usually mean I'm about to get laid.”

He ignored the appealing mental image. Even his dick knew that was more crazy than it was worth. “If my house burns down, it's going to be your fault.”

“No, it'll be your fault for not keeping your dick in your pants. I mean that literally.” Her comment was accompanied by a sharply raised, judgmental eyebrow, and Oliver groaned. He just could not catch a break. It felt like everyone he considered a friend had adopted Felicity already while he couldn't care less about everyone who was suspicious of the new interloper.

"Look, you and everyone else can stop giving me shit. I apologized already, and she accepted. We're... fine."

"Mmhmm. That's why Thea's gone all Mama Bear and keeping her away from you," Sara noted astutely.

They both knew that his hard line with women was—and had always been—Thea's friends. The last thing he wanted to do was create more problems or gossip surrounding his sister so he did the simplest thing possible by avoiding any interactions with her friends that could be construed as anything more than politeness. That Thea had glommed onto Felicity as quickly as she did meant that she didn't trust him around the newcomer. Which was both disappointing and insulting.

Before he could respond, Sara's phone rang, and she stepped closer to the door to answer it. After barely a few minutes conversation, she reappeared to grab his hand and drag him to Thea, Nyssa, and Felicity.

 

* * *

 

She and Thea were met at the bar by Nyssa. Felicity only raised an eyebrow at her appearance, but Thea didn't bother holding her tongue, “You look rumpled.” Nyssa simply hummed in a way that was both enigmatic and suggestive.

While Felicity was in the midst of an accidentally inappropriate comment—it was just her way—Sara appeared to pull away Nyssa. Laurel, Tommy, and the good deputy mayor were in need of a ride since Laurel’s car was being towed back to town. Sara and Nyssa left to assist, and Felicity was left with the siblings as Oliver had ventured over to rejoin then.

Her buffer from being alone with Oliver, which had yet to go well for her, lasted all of twenty seconds before Thea glanced over Felicity’s shoulder and broke off mid-sentence. Thea quickly deposited her glass on a nearby table and muttered generic excuses to Felicity and reassurances to Oliver then disappeared into the wind. Felicity was taken aback by the gentle way Oliver had tried to question Thea’s well-being, even reaching for her before she slipped away.

Turning to question Oliver about what just happened, Felicity found him glaring hard in the same direction as whatever had spooked Thea. She looked over to see if she could identify the source but, obviously, stared into a sea of unfamiliar faces. Until John appeared, looking contrite and guilty.

To her surprise, Oliver sounded gutted when he muttered, “John?” A whole mess of emotions were imbued in the name, the primary ones being anger, disappointment, and betrayal.

“I’m so sorry, man. I did not invite him. He crashed and got past the security idiots with his creepy charm. I was trying to get him out before Thea saw, but he wasn’t really going quietly. Did she uh...”

Felicity could tell that Diggle was only moderately hopeful Thea was just in another room and had missed whatever scene had flown over her head. Everything had appeared perfectly civilized to her, but obviously Vegas had different protocols for kicking people out of parties. Oliver confirmed Thea’s earlier presence with a nod and pained grimace then they seemed to have a conversation with only their eyes and eyebrows, leaving her to wonder who had shocked Thea into leaving. She hoped Thea at least managed to avoid whoever it was at the exit, though she guessed they would have heard by now if she hadn’t.

“Well, now that that’s over, why don’t you get this girl _welcomed_?”

They both glared at Oliver for the unnecessary emphasis but he merely grinned and pushed Dig her way. Ignoring Oliver’s antics, Diggle slung an arm around her shoulders and lead her to her execution—whoops, she meant into the crowd. His first target was an elderly couple who looked friendly enough, only to turn on her when they learned her job involved all that terrible technology. Somehow, Felicity got the feeling that this was going to be a recurring experience.

Her last glimpse of Oliver was some time later. He was at the bar throwing back a shot and encroaching the personal space of a brunette who might have been one of the Starlets on her porch and who looked all too happy to have her personal space encroached. When he left her and Dig, she assumed he'd be going after Thea but so much for that wishful thinking. Felicity just rolled her eyes before Diggle introduced her to yet another person she wasn't going to remember.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OT4!

Felicity opened the door to find Oliver wearing his most ridiculous grin and holding an opened box.

“I know you’re the most charming boy at the hoedown, but that smile isn’t going to work here.”

Immediately, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear, Vegas. So if it’s not for me, who’s the red dress for? Because _damn_.”

She didn’t respond right away but kicked the door open wider and wandered into her living area, assuming he would follow. “Lyla’s setting me up on a blind date,” she noticed his split second frown but didn’t comment, “I do need a man’s opinion and I guess you qualify.”

“More man than you can handle,” Oliver retorted as expected, but she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.

For a moment, Felicity considered asking what had him so down, but they weren’t really _friends_. Ever since her welcome party, they were friendly whenever they saw each other at breakfast. He’d gotten in the habit of calling her Vegas, which was a little endearing if only because it meant he didn’t drawl her name like he did for anyone else with female parts, and she’d gotten in the habit of sassing him without reservations. And of course, she’d been using his house as a delivery address.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” As if sensing her hesitation, he held the box over his head, out of her reach. “Come on, you know you want to tell me. Starling’s a small town, I can give you the rundown on the poor sucker.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me who you were hiding from that first day? Jealous lover? Scorned girlfriend? Pissed off husband?” Felicity shot out all her guess, smirking as Oliver grew more disgruntled with each one.

“None of the above. Thank you for that stereotype. My... friend”—Felicity scoffed and he shot her a dirty look—”McKenna, she’s got a crazy ex-boyfriend. He saw us talking at the bar one night and he thought I was the reason she broke up with him. Really, Ken broke up with him because she finally realized he’s a lunatic like everyone tried to tell her. Anyway, she sorted him out.”

“ _Sorted him out_?” Felicity repeated, just a little incredulous. Aside from psychological warfare, did she really want to know how Southern women handled business, so to speak?

Oliver shrugged nonchalantly, though she could tell he was amused. She just wasn’t sure if it was at the memory of his “friend” McKenna or her reaction. “Yeah, she’s an army brat with a black belt. Ken sorted him out, and he won’t be bothering me anymore. Looks like we’re going to find another excuse to cozy up together.”

“ _Hard_ no. In so many ways,” Felicity emphasized the rejection, but instead of reacting, Oliver only raised his eyebrows to remind her of their deal. With a put upon sigh, she revealed, “Ray Palmer.”

“Oh god,” Oliver burst out laughing, “How desperate does Lyla think you are?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Felicity demanded, hands on hips and stare down in full effect as he barely made an attempt to collect himself. “She said he’s nice!”

“Yeah, if you’re into nerds,” he shot back finally.

With a wry look, Felicity reminded him, “ _I’m_ a nerd.”

“But a nerd who I’m pretty sure can fill out a dress. You going to try this on for me, Vegas?” Finally, he lowered the box to her height, and she snatched the dress from the inside. Stomping into her room, she let the door slam behind her, trusting him enough to not lock it. As she started changing, she heard him ask, “Why is Lyla setting you up anyway? Thought you were just here for a job.”

“Because,” she sighed loud enough to carry through the door, “if I’m going to be stuck here for another eleven months, I might as well try to make the best of it. Ray’s an engineer, gainfully employed, allegedly tall and good-looking. I could do worse even in Vegas.” With that, she flung the door open, bracing herself for a crass comment or two.

Instead of responding to her point, Oliver’s jaw dropped before he whistled lowly. “My stars, Palmer doesn’t deserve you.”

Involuntarily, the flush worked its way up her neck and to the entirety of her face. If his attractiveness didn’t sell the female population on Oliver Queen, that look would be the tipping point. “Stop it,” she chided quietly before, “Are you sure I wouldn’t like him?”

Oliver looked at her carefully then studied his hands for a moment. “I don’t think he’s your type.”

Felicity knew better than to ask what he thought her type would be. That was a can of worms she wasn’t going to open. No, there was someone else who needed questioning.

 

* * *

 

Oliver held the door open with a flourish so Felicity, with a head full of steam, could march through it.

“Lyla! Lyla Michaels won’t-hyphenate-to-Diggle!” Felicity stopped short a step into the kitchen, and he nearly crashed into her back. “Oh. There you are.”

Lyla raised a wry eyebrow then calmly continued eating her breakfast. “Morning. Can I help you two?”

This ought to be good. He couldn’t believe that Lyla warned him off Felicity just weeks ago, yammering on about how she was too good to stay in this backwater town forever, only to turn around and set her up with golden boy Ray Palmer. Sure, there weren’t a ton of options in Starling, but Felicity could do better than that overgrown Boy Scout. Some best friend Lyla was.

“What is wrong with Ray Palmer?”

With a slow blink that indicated her confusion, Lyla parroted the question back, “I don’t know. What’s wrong with Ray Palmer?”

“I mean, why are you setting me up with him? There’s got to be something wrong with him, right? Oliver doesn’t think he’s my type.”

“You’re taking love advice from the man you called the “Bayou Playboy” the other night?” Lyla asked incredulously, ignoring Oliver’s offended grumbling. “Over _my_ opinion?”

“Well, you know, I figured he knows his competition,” Felicity shrugged. “If anyone’s going to give me an unbiased opinion of this guy, it’s probably Oliver.”

“Palmer is _not_ competition,” he bit out, finally being heard over the bickering duo. They both leveled him with a “puh-lease” look that he took even more offense to. “He isn’t,” he insisted, “I mean unless you’re into the whole “looks like Superman” thing.”

“He looks like Superman!?” Felicity whirled on him, punctuating each word with a slap to his arm.

“Ow! Hey! You’re not supposed to be superficial,” he exclaimed, realizing too late she might take that as an insult. Like she shouldn’t care about a guy’s looks because she didn’t have room to judge. “I mean,” Oliver continued quickly over her protests, “that I’m saying he’s not your type because he’s got a personality like dull dishwater. You’re all brightness and sarcasm, and he’s like listening to someone read the phone book.”

“Lyla?” Felicity looks to her for confirmation, and to his satisfaction, she shrugs a little guiltily.

“Okay so Ray can be a little hard to talk to. But! You understand all his techno babble and stuff. I figure you guys at least speak the same language. Plus, you’re both spending time helping small towns when you could be anywhere else in the world. You’ve got things in common. Just give it a chance,” Lyla finished with a smug smile that Oliver didn’t appreciate. Obviously, she wore down Felicity who was no longer on a war path.

“Fine,” she agreed, shrugging. “I’m trusting your judgment on this, Lyla, but I’m not risking a new dress on him.”

“You shouldn’t,” Oliver was quick to agree, “That dress is worth way more than a first date with Palmer of all people.”

Lyla sent them both a suspicious and curious look. “Why is Oliver _of all people_ getting a sneak peek at your date outfit options?”

“I’ve been using the boathouse as my delivery address,” Felicity confessed with an eye roll.

Oliver smirked because it was just funny how little Vegas understood about small towns and how they worked. With her track record, she was going to piss off everyone but Dig and Lyla by the end of her second month. Well, and him, but that’s because he didn’t care enough about a complete stranger unlike the other busybodies around town.

“I made the mistake of suggesting to the mailman that he actually use the tracking number to, I don’t know, track the packages he’s supposed to deliver. Ever since, all my packages have been kindly returned to sender. What if I had something important in there? Like life-saving medicine or something?”

“Old Man Harper would have delivered that,” he reassured her, “It’s just your Amazon stuff he’ll send back.”

“You can buy medicine on Amazon!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. Oliver stifled his amusement, feeling like she’d be all too happy to redirect her anger.

Lyla chuckled, clearly used to her exuberance. “You can always use our address.”

“I think he’d figure me out since everyone knows we’re friends,” Felicity shook her head. “No one would suspect me of using Oliver’s address. And, you know,” she sent him a long look that was _interesting_ , “the boathouse is closer.”

Lyla eyed them both speculatively until Felicity muttered about getting ready, never mind that it was nine in the morning, and left.

“What?” he asked when she continued to give him that unnerving stare. Man, is this how Lyla kept a stadium full of employees in line? “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s not you,” she answered cryptically.

Oliver lost the staring contest. “You’re being weird,” he accused before grabbing a muffin and leaving.

 

* * *

 

“How’d the date go, slugger? Noticed you guys weren’t at any of Starling’s _fine_ dining establishments.”

There had been a distinct lack of gossip about Felicity and Palmer last night when he was tending bar. Obviously, they hadn’t gone to Verdant, and if they’d been at Big Belly or Table Salt, everyone would be talking about it. Someone made the (right) decision to head out of town.

Felicity blew a raspberry at him then sunk her sorrows into a bear claw.

“That good, huh?” Oliver asked rhetorically.

She didn’t answer him but directed her attention to the other woman in the kitchen. “Hey, Ly. Remember how we had that rule in Vegas? About how you weren’t allowed to set me up with anyone?”

“That rule now applies in Starling?” Lyla asked, resignation written all over her face.

“That rule now applies in Starling!” Felicity confirmed with waving arms. “Dishwater! I didn’t think that could ever be an accurate description of a human being, but here we are. I mean, do you realize how much dull conversation it takes for a girl—for _me_ —to look past impeccable manners, Disney prince hair, genius IQ, and, yes, Superman good looks?”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Dig chimed in encouragingly.

“I fell asleep. Effectively face planted in my soup. Add the city planning office to the list of people who hate my guts.” Felicity dragged the plate of donuts into her arms. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the carriage house. Drowning my sorrows in donuts at the prospect of not having sex for another year. Obviously, TMI, but I don’t even care right now.”

A little shell shocked, they all watched her depart without another word.

“Well, fascinating as this all is, it’s my day off, and Roy and I are going fishing.” Oliver was too preoccupied gathering up bagels to notice them staring at first but he caught on eventually. “What? Bagels travel well. You want me to leave some?”

“You’re going fishing? With Thea’s boyfriend?” Lyla questioned, both suspiciously and worriedly.

Oliver shrugged, “Yeah. I mean, Thea asked me to give him a chance so...”

Dig rubbed a hand over his face. “Just don’t drown the kid. The sheriff knows where you live after all.”

With a roll of his eyes, Oliver pushed out the door. “You guys have no faith.”

 

* * *

 

When Felicity sauntered into the kitchen for breakfast, Oliver just about bit his tongue off. “New shoes, Vegas? How come those weren’t on my doorstep?” he asked once he recovered. It had already been almost two months, but either Felicity was a slow learner—unlikely—or she just didn’t care about Starling’s traditional standards of appropriateness. Because those were _fuck me_ shoes.

“Yep!” Felicity answered with a bright grin. She stuck a heeled foot out to show them off, and Oliver surreptitiously inspected her bare leg instead. “And I don’t know. They were outside my door yesterday, and I got my mail.”

Quickly, she whirled on the other occupant of the kitchen. “John, did you talk to Old Man Harper for me? Did he have a change of heart, or, you know, remember tampering with someone’s mail is a federal crime?”

“Let’s go with option one,” Diggle encouraged. “See? I told you people would warm up to you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged, correctly not trusting Dig’s optimism. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be in the Clerk and Recorder’s office today. See you at dinner!”

Oliver’s eyes followed her out the door. When he looked back up, Diggle was doing that knowing eyebrow raise at him. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he was about to be real glad Lyla had an early morning call with East Coast clients. “What’s that look for, Dig?”

A smirk grew on his best friend’s face. “You _like_ Felicity.”

“What? No, I don’t,” Oliver automatically denied, tucking back into his eggs.

Except if Diggle was that easily discouraged, well, he probably wouldn’t be married to a woman like Lyla. “Then who talked Roy into talking Old Man Harper into delivering her packages again? Wasn’t me. Doubt it was Lyla.”

“Well, that’s—” Oliver fumbled. Damn it. They weren’t supposed to find out about that. “That’s just so she stops bugging me all the time for her packages. Woman’s got a shoe addiction. Doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Stop that.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Laurel Lance as Jason Street—I mean, George Tucker—with a dash of Lemon Breeland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, remember this?

Felicity watched in confusion as Rory Regan, the city clerk, fled out the back door. 

They had just finished going over the process to digitize Starling’s records, all two thousand years of them. Unlike the other employees she’d been meeting with, Rory hadn’t been passive-aggressively hostile to start. But then he realized the digitization would require manually scanning in all those two thousand years of frighteningly well-preserved records, and the city didn’t have the money to outsource the work, meaning  _he_ would have to do it all himself. Well, that was clearly the last straw since he made tracks.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Felicity turned back towards her laptop to find Laurel Lance standing on the other side of the counter. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not entirely your fault,” the lawyer calmly reassured her.

Felicity wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but it was then that she noticed the small stack of papers on the counter in front of Laurel. “Oh. Did you need Rory for something?”

“Just some research,” Laurel waved her off, “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Pretty much everything in this town can wait.” The last sentence was said with a deprecating chuckle that Felicity didn’t quite understand.

“Why don’t we get lunch? Looks like we’re both without anything to do right now, and Sara and Dad have been complaining I haven’t made an effort with you.”

Again, Felicity had no idea what to do with the offer, other than accept it, even though it didn’t particularly sound like Laurel  _wanted_  to have lunch with her. Aside from Lyla, who she lost all self-consciousness around years ago, Laurel was the only woman in this town who could make her feel unsophisticated and even insecure. Which was strange given that she knew almost nothing personal about Laurel besides the basics.

“Great. Let me just call Evelyn and let her know that Rory’s run off again,” Laurel reached over the counter to pull the landline closer to her. In response to Felicity’s questioning look, she explained, “They’re best friends. She’ll get him back here by the time we’re done with lunch.”

Felicity silently watched as Laurel straightened her papers and stowed them in the professional yet stylish briefcase on the counter. By the time she hung up with Evelyn—didn’t these people believe in texts?—Felicity had packed up her own bag and was waiting for her at the door.

They decided on Big Belly Burger since it was the closest and had a patio to enjoy the slightly less suffocating weather. Well, that was part of Laurel’s reasoning. Felicity could have done without giving the entire town a front row opportunity to judge her some more.

“What did you mean it wasn’t entirely my fault? With Rory, I mean,” she worked up the nerve to ask after they placed their orders.

“Oh,” Laurel pouted in a way that was unfairly compassionate  _and_ attractive. “His parents and sister died in a car accident a few months ago, well, almost a year now. Rory hasn’t really been the same since. I think he needs to get away from here.”

Mentally, Felicity agreed. She couldn’t shake the impression that Rory should really be a TA at a liberal arts college in New England somewhere right now, and not an  _elected_  town official. But then she was confused again, as Laurel continued, “Even if it’s only for a little while. Starling will pull him back eventually.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows in question, and Laurel gave her a bittersweet smile.

“Everyone tries to leave.  _Everyone_. I tried, Sara, Tommy, Ollie, John. Thea hasn’t yet but she’s young still. No matter what, we always come back. Something about this place, I can’t”—she gave a wistful sigh—“It’s  _home_ , you know. Always has that draw.”

No, Felicity didn’t know. She’d yet to find anywhere that didn’t make her itchy to leave. Even returning to Vegas after school in Boston felt more like being shackled than coming home to the familiar and comforting.

“Where’d you go?” Felicity couldn’t help but ask. For the last month, she’d been assuming that everyone, especially the younger crowd, was untraveled and stuck in this small town for lack of ambition or opportunity. She hadn’t considered that maybe they  _chose_  to stay here. “Somewhere everything  _couldn’t_  wait?” she prompted further, remembering Laurel’s line about putting off her research until tomorrow.

“Stanford Law, then a big San Francisco firm. I was four years down the partner track. Then one night, I was talking to Dad, and he mentioned Mr. Donner, the old town lawyer, was retiring. The next thing I knew, I quit my job, sold my townhouse, caught the next flight to Central City and the bus to Starling.”

“ _Wow_.” Felicity really meant it, too. Laurel’s story was pretty similar to how she ended up in this place, except that Laurel knew exactly what she was getting herself into. “Do you think that was the right decision?”

Laurel lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “I went to law school because I wanted to help people. When I got my job at the firm, I kind of lost sight of that, loans to pay and all. But now that I’m back? Yeah, it was the right decision. I make a real difference in people’s lives here, and they’re not just any random people. They’re friends and family and people who watched me grow up.” Her finishing smile was content, and the satisfaction with her career almost radiated from Laurel.

“That must be nice.”

The response was trite, but it was the only thing Felicity could think of. A second ago, she thought she might have found something in common with Laurel, with the whole ditching the big city to come to Starling thing. But, no, Felicity never had that sense of home and belonging before. She didn’t know what it was like to take pride and comfort in helping out her community and she was starting to worry she never would.

Laurel redirected then, turning the questions onto her. By the end of lunch, Felicity felt thoroughly vetted and interrogated without any sense of what Laurel’s verdict was. If that was a typical interaction with Laurel, psychological warfare was an incredibly accurate description for Southern women. They parted ways with smiles, manufactured as they might have been, and Felicity returned to the clerk’s office where, true to Laurel’s word, Rory was back and waiting.

 

* * *

 

She was  _curious_ now. 

At lunch, Felicity tried to subtly press Laurel for details on where Oliver went during his... rumspringa, for lack of a better term. But Laurel breezed over the information, and she didn’t want to press further and arouse suspicions. The summary amounted to: he bailed out for a summer but then came back for Thea.

Everyone else Laurel mentioned she could imagine spreading their wings for a bit, but the idea of Oliver Queen in a place other than Starling City made no sense to her.

Whenever she and the Diggles went to Verdant, which was about three times a week since there were only two other restaurants in town—Big Belly didn’t serve alcohol and Table Salt was the fancy one—Oliver just seemed so at home there. He knew everyone by name—okay, most of the town aside from her knew everyone by name—and always had an easy smile and a flirtatious or fratastic word for the customers. He smoothly complimented the little old ladies and expertly broke up the bar fights. In over a month of breakfasting with him and the Diggles, he never once mentioned anything outside of fishing, his guitar, Thea, the occasional hook-up, and going to work.

It felt like an existential question. If a tree falls in the woods and no one’s there, does it still make a sound? If Oliver Queen lives in a city where he doesn’t have a tab, which he  _never_  pays, at the local bakery, does he really exist?

The question would have to go unanswered for now. John would probably know, but then that she asked would find its way to Lyla. And Felicity didn’t trust the gleam in Lyla’s eye these days. Lyla had been looking at her (and her  _and_ Oliver) funny ever since the disaster that was her date with Ray. The last thing Lyla needed was  _ammunition_  for her overly analytical mind. 

 

* * *

 

Oliver was splayed out over a section of Tommy’s couch to watch the Rockets game. Even if meant he ran the risk of Laurel in one of her sanctimonious moods, Tommy had the better TV, the better couch, and the better beer. One of the perks of having a father who might be a creep and a raging asshole but was at least smart enough not to lose the family fortune.

Just as the commercial break ended, Sara crashed back onto the couch next to him, bouncing off his side and sending some popcorn and chips flying out of the bowls she held. Oliver plucked them off his shirt and the cushions for munching as the game progressed. At the next timeout, Sara took a handful of popcorn and chucked it at Laurel, where she was sitting at the kitchen table, wedding planning on her laptop. Tommy, from his favorite recliner, muttered a half-hearted protest.

“So why don’t you like Felicity, sister of mine?”

Even if he hadn’t been sitting right next to Sara, Oliver’s ears would have perked up. Diggle was convinced he was falling in love with Felicity, so Lyla probably was, too, and Sara was fast becoming her best friend. Tommy and Thea hadn’t spent enough time with her to form an opinion, or so they said. (Actually, Tommy’s first impression was more along the lines of, _Well if_   _I weren’t engaged_ , so Oliver considered that him reserving judgment, and Thea liked Felicity enough, just not enough to give him shit for how he treated her. Yet.) The rest of the town, who he didn’t trust as far as he could throw, thought she was some kind of technologically advanced antichrist. He needed a rational person who also didn’t think Felicity was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Laurel was the next best thing.

After gathering the littered popcorn and trashing it, Laurel hedged, “I don’t  _not_ like her. She just comes off as a little uppity and judgmental.”

The three of them burst out in maniacal laughter. By the time they finished, Sara was actually wiping away tears, and Tommy was sprawled on the ground. From the glare Laurel was leveling at her fiancé, it’s a good thing Tommy had the better couch.

“Do you remember how ridiculous you were when you first moved back?” Oliver asked the question to spare Tommy’s back from having to sleep on the couch. “So fuckin’ annoying.”

Laurel scowled in response, not enjoying that reminder. 

It was true, though. Stanford being where it was, Laurel didn’t have much time or money to make the trip back to Starling during law school. Once she started at the firm, money was less of an issue, but then she had even less time as a junior associate. The distance and stress nearly broke her and Tommy, except he refused to let that be the end of their relationship.

Tommy packed himself up and flew out to San Francisco. He spent weeks camped out in Laurel’s apartment, while she spent weeks barely sleeping or sleeping in her office, until they could talk. To everyone’s surprise, Tommy ended up moving there for almost a year, until he couldn’t take living in the city anymore. Realizing how miserable he was, Laurel sent him home with promises that she would join him as soon as she could. Just under a year later, Laurel kept her promise and moved home, new attitude in tow.

For months after, Sara relentlessly “beat the entitlement out of her.”  _Figuratively_ , Sara said, but no one doubted it could have been literally, too. Eventually, Laurel returned to the down-to-earth yet highly strung, overeducated, token-Starlet they all knew and loved.

“Hey, the Butter Block now serves avocado toast because of me so you’re welcome,” she sharply reminded them, and they grumbled in agreement.

“So Felicity isn’t used to... all this,” Sara conceded, “I don’t know anyone who didn’t grow up here and isn’t weirded out by Starling. But she’s smart and funny and genuinely nice, which you would all know by now if you just gave her a chance. Ollie, I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass, but you’re a miserable dick to her most of the time. Tommy, take her to lunch or something because it’s not like you work for a living. Laurel, stop being so judgmental and help her adjust. You’re the only one of us who’s gone through something similar.”

As Sara extracted promises from Tommy and Laurel, Oliver stayed quiet. He was only being, yes, kind of a dick to Felicity because Dig and Lyla were so pushy about him being nice to her. They got along in their strange antagonistic way. It’s definitely different than any other dynamic he’s ever had with a woman he’d like to sleep with, but it worked. Except no one else understood that, so he pushed back against  _their_ pushing by being an actual dick. Which he guessed wasn’t super fair to Felicity.

“Ollie!” He looked up to find Sara glaring at him. “You going to be nicer or what?”

“I’m  _already_  nice,” he grumbled, unwilling to give up on his defense.

Sara just rolled her eyes, declaring him a lost cause, and went back to focusing on the game.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Oliver was back at Verdant. He was wiping down the bar when he saw Raisa leading Tommy and Felicity to a corner table. He watched as Felicity said something that had Tommy bursting out in laughter. His best friend looked at her a little more closely, with a fondness that reminded Oliver of how Tommy treated Thea.

Well,  _shit_.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: talk of suicide. (If you dig back into your memories of Hart of Dixie Season 1, you know what scene it is.)

Felicity pulled open the door when she tired of the two men arguing on her porch. John greeted her with a sheepish smile, but Oliver just scowled. 

That’s right. They’d been “off” ever since she yelled at him to stop playing his guitar and “entertaining” late at night since one of them had a job that started at eight a.m. Oddly, Oliver hadn’t appreciated the concept of being considerate towards other people. Every time she started to think he wasn’t so bad, he did something new to annoy her. It probably wasn’t deliberate—she couldn’t imagine he actually put  _thought_ into how to piss her off—but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“Hey Felicity, Oliver’s run into a problem and could use your help.” Unsubtly, Dig elbowed Oliver and then muttered, “Man, you better put your pride away and open your mouth.”

With a hard glare at their mutual friend, Oliver grumbled, “Someone... withdrew a large amount from my savings account. Dig said you could look into it." His face twitched when Dig dug another elbow into his side. “Will you please help me?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the reluctant request, Felicity cracked the door open further in invitation. Dig shoved Oliver through the space and fled the premises with the flimsy excuse of hearing Lyla calling for him. All the way from the main house. Right.

Felicity wandered over to the dining table doubling as a desk and opened her laptop. She dropped into a chair then kicked the other out in invitation, waiting the long minutes before Oliver reluctantly took a seat. “First, are you sure it was on purpose? Maybe Thea meant to withdraw it from her account and somehow accidentally got yours?”

Oliver’s only response was a hard look so she pushed her laptop across the table. “Fine. Then log into your account, and let me take a look. You do have an online account, right?”

The look elevated to dirty, but he didn’t so much as twitch towards her computer. “How do I know you’re not going to steal from me?”

“I used to work with professional football players, worth millions and millions of dollars. And the owners of football teams, worth billions and billions of dollars. If I didn’t steal from them, why would I steal from you?” When he still looked skeptical, she shrugged. “Do you want my help or not? Because this could ruin your life for years, even decades, but it’ll take me five minutes to find out who did it.”

With an eye roll—because it wasn’t like  _she_ was doing  _him_  the favor—Oliver logged into his account and pushed the computer back. Felicity did her best to ignore his account balances and focused on the transaction history and the very short electronic trail the last withdrawal left. Well, that’s inconvenient. She rolled her own eyes at this ass backwards place.

“Okay, looks like it was a standard withdrawal. And by standard I mean in person with a real life teller, which isn’t really standard anymore except for maybe in towns like this but... You get my drift. It’s not really something I can look into digitally since it wasn’t moved into another account. You could always wait till tomorrow, go down to the bank and ask them.” Felicity dropped the hint and waited.

“Or?”

She grinned. Who ever said Oliver Queen was simple? Oh, right. She did. All the time.

“Or I could take a quick run through the security feeds as long as you promise to keep your big mouth shut about it.” She took his low growl as a promise and pulled up the software she had installed just last week at the bank. “I’m going to start in the morning at four times speed. Shout if you want me to pause.”

“There. Son of a bitch!”

He jackknifed up from the chair and started pacing the room, every once in a while stopping to glare at the screen.

Felicity would have asked who, but there was only one customer in the bank—a haggard, grizzly looking man. His beard covered the lower half of his face and a beat up baseball hat, the top half, but Oliver seemed to have no issue identifying the man. The man, however, wasn’t actually the security problem. Everyone knew everyone in this town, so for whatever reason this bank teller decided it was a good idea to let someone who was clearly not Oliver withdraw from his account.

“Do you recognize the teller? Why would she let him withdraw money from your account?”

Oliver stopped his frustrated pacing long enough to answer, “She’s an... old friend.” Felicity rolled her eyes. She really didn’t know why he even bothered with the euphemisms. “A bitter one apparently.” He gestured vaguely then strode to her door. “Thanks for your help. I’ll keep the noise down.”

Well, that was interesting.

 

* * *

 

The next night she was celebrating the end of her futile work week by getting ice cream from the Star Kart. Dig and Lyla were out of town for one of her events, and she didn't feel entirely comfortable “breaking” into their kitchen, even though she had a key—and the doors were unlocked anyway—and carte blanche. But with the way everyone kept staring at her, she was totally stealing from the plantation next time.

“He’s going to jump!”

_Who?!_

_What?!_

By the time Felicity turned around, whoever had burst through the door and made the proclamation had already run off. And by the time she turned back to the register, Slade was already rounding the counter and heading for the door,  _sword_ in hand. Where the hell did that come from? For a moment, she merely stared at the ice cream before rolling her eyes and running outside.

She followed the small but hurrying trickle of people down the street with the questions still going in her mind. Who was going to jump? And off what exactly? Starling City wasn’t exactly riddled with skyscrapers, or even buildings taller than three stories. In fact, the tallest building she could think of, aside from the church steeple, was City Hall. Which was exactly where the “crowd” led her.

Sure enough, there was a man, who looked more like he belonged panhandling on Las Vegas Boulevard than in this picturesque small town, standing on the thankfully wide ledge in front of the façade depicting the town’s founders. He swayed unsteadily, and the crowd gasped before releasing a sigh of relief when he staggered back against the building. Felicity scanned the crowd quickly but didn’t see Sara or anyone else who might double as an authority figure in this crazy place.

“Get down from there, Bert!” Slade yelled angrily from his place at the front of the crowd. His sword swished through the air with a whistle, but Felicity had no idea what he was trying to accomplish with it. Menace the man— _Bert_ —into climbing down?

“No!” he responded with a... _pout?_ Was he really pouting? “I’m really going to do it this time!”

“You’re not going to kill yourself! You’re just going to break a leg or something! Now get down before you hurt yourself!”

Oh, there was Sara. 

The sherriff had joined Slade at the front of the crowd and was almost lazily reprimanding the would-be jumper. And Sara wasn’t wrong. The ledge of the façade was only about a story and a half high, and Felicity couldn’t imagine certain death resulting from that fall. She half-expected Dr. Holt and an assistant to appear with one of those cartoon stretchers—just a piece of canvas secured to two wood poles—ready to catch and carry the man off before he would even hit the ground.

“Who is that?”

Felicity didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until an answer came from her left. 

“Batty Bert.” 

She looked over to find a woman she didn’t recognize but was probably a Starlet based on her outfit. The Starlet gave her a long look in return, as if wondering if she should be seen talking to her, before deciding to continue. “He does this every couple months. Never does jump. Just wants a little attention.”

She moved away after that, leaving Felicity with even more questions. He had plenty of attention now. What was he waiting for?"

_Who_ apparently would have been the better question, because she got her answer in the next second.

Oliver appeared up on the ledge having shimmied around the side of the building, and the crowd’s murmuring picked up. Slowly, Felicity picked her way through the crowd until she reached Sara’s side. The sherriff looked over at her with a tight smile.

Her face must have been doing something crazy because Sara reassured her, “It’ll be alright now. You’ll see.”

“Come on down, Bert,” Oliver cajoled, stretching a hand out to the man.

“No!” was the harsh rejection. “I won’t!”

“Yes, you will!” Oliver growled. “Look, everyone’s here. They’re all scared for you. You got what you wanted. Now come on down.”

“Not everyone,” Bert replied sadly, and the words seemed to drain the anger right out of Oliver.

He sighed tiredly and leaned back against the façade, dropping his head back to the surface. “You can’t change the past, Bert. I forgive you so let’s just go home.”

Instead of answering, Bert staggered forward a step, and everyone instinctively lunged forward to match him.

“ _Moon river..._ ” Oliver suddenly sang, clearly but scratchily.

Even in the low light, Felicity could see his face reddening, the discomfort present in his entire body as he inched forward. Bert fell back again and almost confusedly began singing along. After a few lines, the entire crowd joined in, Sara swaying slightly and bumping into her hip until Felicity piped up, too.

They came to the song’s end with a round of applause, and Felicity watched in concern as Oliver closed the distance to the man, grabbing him by the arm. Bert jerked unsteadily, almost crumpling, but Oliver tightened his grip to pull him upright.

“Dad, that’s enough. Time to go home.”

Felicity’s eyebrows jumped to the neighborhood of her hairline, and she turned to Sara with wide eyes. Sara shrugged at her in an attempt at nonchalance but clearly knew she had questions. “Ollie’s going to need help with him. I’ll see you later.”

In the scuffle to get Bert off the roof, Oliver knocked his hat off, and it fluttered to the ground, landing at her feet. Felicity picked it up, wondering why it seemed familiar. The penny dropped almost immediately, although it should have the moment she saw Bert standing up there. The haggard man who’d been caught on camera withdrawing the money from Oliver’s account? That would be Batty Bert, AKA Oliver’s father? 

Oh. Well, that was even _more_ interesting.

Felicity stood among the dispersing crowd for a moment before remembering her ice cream and running back to the Star Kart.

 

* * *

 

“You know you want to ask,” Sara said into her grits, peering up at Felicity.

She cast another glance around Verdant to ensure Oliver hadn’t wandered nearby then sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s Oliver Queen’s story?”

Sara set her fork down and picked up her coffee, obviously settling in for storytime.

“The Queens used to be the richest family in town, probably in the state. Dig’s plantation? They built it generations ago. All of a sudden, one day, Ollie’s parents sold it. It was around when I started high school, I think, so maybe sophomore or junior year for him. They moved into a small house outside of town after. Then, near the end of high school for Ollie, their mom died of cancer. Batty Bert, I mean Mr. Queen, went off the rails. He didn’t hurt the kids or anything, but he stopped taking care of them, and himself. After a few months, Ollie turned eighteen. He got his own place and took Thea with him, worked whatever odd jobs he could find.”

Felicity knew her incredulity was written all over her face. Not just because she couldn’t imagine Oliver as the responsible, pull himself up by his bootstraps type, but also because, “No one ever called social services?”

“That’s not how places like this work,” Sara explained with a fond smile. “People help each other. Even when he hated him for how he treated Laurel, Dad paid Ollie to mow the lawn and clean the gutters or he’d drop off groceries when he knew work was lean. And it wasn’t just my dad. Everyone chipped in whenever they could. Ollie did his best to take care of Thea, and Starling did its best to take care of Ollie. He’s a little reckless now, kind of a shithead because he finally can be again, but he’s always been a good guy deep down.”

“ _Way_ deep down,” was Felicity's muttered response.

Sara didn’t disagree. Instead, she just added, “When something’s worth it, he rises to the occasion.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes at the leading statement but chose not to fuel the fire.

“Anyway, there you have it. The dirty little secret behind our picture perfect small town,” Sara shrugged nonchalantly, but Felicity could tell it was a well-hidden,  _well-protected_  secret. Despite her brush-off, she guessed it did explain a lot about Oliver and this town’s relationships.

A chorus of laughter broke out from near the bar, and she looked up to find Oliver—speak of the devil—grinning at a group of rough-looking fishermen. She watched him curiously, through new eyes, until he felt her stare on him. Oliver must have sensed the new knowledge in her gaze because he shot a glare at Sara then raised a challenging eyebrow at her, almost daring a comment.

_Still_ interesting.

So Oliver probably saw her last night and guessed at what she and Sara had been talking about and he definitely didn’t like her enlightenment.

 

* * *

 

That night, she plucked up her courage, picked up Batty Bert’s hat, and walked over to Oliver’s. When she neared his porch, she could hear the familiar sounds of video games, but true to his word, it was at volume that wouldn’t carry all the way to hers. Knocking loudly, she waited while he cursed, paused the game, and stomped over to open the door.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Hi to you, too,” she rolled her eyes at the astounding lack of manners. “I picked this up last night. Thought you might want it back.”

Oliver pulled the offering from her hands quickly and muttered a thanks before attempting to shut the door in her face. 

“I— uh, I washed it. Figured it couldn’t hurt.” The words jumped out of her mouth almost against her will, but they seemed to pause Oliver. 

He hesitated and swung the door back open by a few inches, turning to her slowly. “Thanks,” he repeated more sincerely this time. 

Felicity just stood there, staring at him and trying to figure out how to place this new information with what she already knew about him. No matter what kind of mental gymnastics she tried to do, it really didn’t compute.

“You need something, Vegas?” Oliver finally asked when all she’d done was furrow her eyebrows at him for a few seconds.

Feeling bold, Felicity slipped past him into the inside of the boathouse for the first time ever. Aside from a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, it was surprisingly neat. He even had a coaster under his sweating beer bottle.

“Come on in,” Oliver muttered, but he didn’t truly sound annoyed. Odd that she already knew that, although he seemed to know the difference between pushing her buttons and actually pissing her off, too. “Can I help you?”

“So that was your dad,” she began, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore. Oliver rolled his eyes and swung the door closed. Yeah, she figured he didn’t want to talk about this in the open, even if it was an open secret for the rest of town.

“Yep,” he snapped sarcastically, "the prestigious Robert Queen. Dear old dad had quite the fall from grace so you can add pitiful daddy issues to the list of redeeming qualities you have about me.”

Felicity flushed a little because, well, she did kind of keep a list of Oliver's better qualities. So far it was limited to his good looks and— Yeah, that was about it. Well, Thea was pretty nice so he got, like, a quarter of a point by proxy.

Shrugging, she tried to deflect, “I’ve seen worse. Vegas and the NFL, after all. Climbing onto a roof—façade? parapet? portico? whatever—to lead a group singalong is actually pretty tame.”

Looking like it was a completely involuntary reaction, he huffed a chuckle. “Trust _you_ ,” he muttered under his breath. Felicity almost asked him what he meant by that, but Oliver continued, still sarcastic, “You caught him on a good night. Maybe next month I’ll introduce you.”

“Next month?” She ignored the sarcasm and tilted her head at him curously. He looked reluctant to answer about the frequency of Bert’s adventures so she pivoted again. “Does that mean you’re no longer taking bets on my being run out of town every week?”

Oliver shook his head and chuckled again. “Of course I’m keeping the pool open. That’s just good business sense.”

“Rude,” she scoffed and turned away, eyes sweeping over his space again. Her gaze landed on the paused screen. “Speaking of bets, what are you playing? You know what? Doesn’t even matter. Bet I can kick your ass.”

Oliver vaulted over the back of the couch, bouncing a little as he landed on a cushion. Felicity fidgeted in place as he saved his place then navigated back to the start screen. Was he ignoring her? Should she just leave?

“Well?” His hand shot up, holding another controller, “What are you waiting for? Or are you just all talk, Vegas?”

Eagerly, she rounded the couch, plucked the controller from his hand, and plopped next to him with so little daintiness that somewhere in Starling, a Starlet just gasped in outrage for no particular reason.

“Bring it on, Bumpkin Biceps.”

 


End file.
